


A Rock and a Hard Place

by theyikesfolder



Series: Kinkmeme Fills [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alley Sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Begging, Breeding, Community: dckinkmeme, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Facials, Filming, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, Object Insertion, Omega Tim Drake, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Spit As Lube, Spitroasting, Stuck in a wall, Tim Drake is Robin, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27210700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyikesfolder/pseuds/theyikesfolder
Summary: There’d been a small, low first story window that Tim knew lead onto the ground floor of another old warehouse.He’d thought he could make the tight squeeze.He’d thought wrong.(Or: Tim gets into a bit of a predicament, and it’s not one of the Bats that finds him.)
Relationships: Tim Drake/Other(s)
Series: Kinkmeme Fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972663
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	A Rock and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt on the DC Kinkmeme:
> 
> “ _I don't have a preference for which Robin, just that they aren't under 15. So if you do Damian please age him up a little! But he can be stuck in a wall, or incompaciated in some way. Whatever you like. I just want a filthy gang rape of Robin being used as a fuck hole. If possible I love fat dirty man rape, but I know that isn't everyone's thing._
> 
>  _I can imagine him being in a warehouse of some kind or an alley way and a group of homeless men find him and fuck him senseless. While I'm not into scat I love watersports! Some more kinks would be spitroasting, filming on a shitty phone, spitting, object insertion (beer bottles would be a nice touch) abo, breeding, cigarette burning. Go wild!! Just no under 15 or scat or vore!_ ”
> 
> As per usual, timeline is p vague. I figure this is like before Damian shows up and Bruce “dies,” but Tim’s been Robin for a few years now and it’s getting a lot closer to that point, so I wrote this with him being about 16 in mind. Would’ve gone a little older probably, but they asked for Robin, so... Guess you could also imagine him as Red Robin or just a canon divergent au where he stays Robin for longer, but whatever.
> 
> Tried to get in as many of the requested kinks as I could. Unfortunately, no watersports, and no cigarette burning, though cigarettes do play a role. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> As always, mind the tags, folks.

A low whistle sounds, and Tim’s stomach _drops_.

He knows it was stupid, going over another case tied to the Falcones when he had no backup in the city to speak of, but he’d been so sure he’d had it handled. It’d only been a stakeout, after all.

But then one of their goons had gotten on _top_ of the truck to better direct the moving of the crates they were unloading from it, and from his new vantage point, had managed to catch sight of Tim where he was tucked away on a nearby roof, watching.

He’d been forced to lead them on a merry chase through the city, cursing himself for tipping them off that they were onto them all the while, and had finally managed to lose them.

But of course, that wasn’t enough. Tim had wanted to be _sure_. So, like an idiot, he kept going, moving from the roofs to the streets so it was harder to spot him, twisting in and out of back alleys, sharp turns and short cuts, climbing fire escapes, ducking through windows and crossing through old buildings and abandoned warehouses, just to be absolutely positive that they weren’t on his tail anymore.

It was that last bit that got him into his current spot of horribly embarrassing trouble.

There’d been a small, low first story window that Tim knew lead onto the ground floor of another old warehouse.

He’d thought he could make the tight squeeze.

He’d thought wrong.

Now his front half is in the warehouse, his back end in the alley, and worse still, his gauntlets got caught on the edge of the windowsill when he was going through and got stuck there, too, so he doesn’t even have use of his arms, and he has no one to call to come help him out of his predicament.

He’d been almost grateful for that at first—there’s no one he could call about this that he ever wanted to see him in such a compromising position.

As a rough hand comes to rest on his flank, Tim is quickly changing his stance on that matter.

“What do we have here, boys?” The voice sounds way closer than it should, easily heard through proximity and the thin walls of the gutted building.

He can already tell where this is going.

They’re going to laugh at his situation, maybe call in the nearest gang or branch of the mob if they’re looking to make a quick buck, or if they’ve been on the wrong side of Batman and Robin’s brand of justice before, perhaps take advantage of the matter themselves.

They’d teach him a lesson, beat him up, maybe some low-grade torture that one would expect from the thugs of Gotham. Either they’d leave him there after, or they’d take him out at some point so they can get easier access to better hurt more of him.

“Looks like a little bitch ripe for breedin’ to me.”

Every part of Tim freezes in an instant.

He’s not breathing.

He doesn’t think he can.

This is—

This is not something he’d accounted for at all.

They can’t be _serious_ , can they?

“Always knew Robin was a little slut,” somebody mutters. “Never thought we’d actually get proof, though.”

A low murmuring of agreement and a few scattered snickers sound at the words, and Tim can barely hear them over the roar of blood in his ears, his heart pounding furiously.

“Y’know, ‘s awful nice of the Bat to leave us a gift. Why wait to open it up?”

Something pulls at his uniform, and before he knows it, his tights are being tugged down his legs. When they catch on the tops of his boots, both are yanked off, with little care for the discomfort it causes him.

 _Pocket knife, probably_ , a part of him thinks, but that part is rather small, considering how much of his mental capacity is currently devoted to _fuckfuckfuck they weren’t kidding no no no need to get out_ —

“ _Knew_ he was an omega,” another man chortles.

“We all fuckin’ did, Dean, you’re not special.”

And that’s—that’s _another_ different voice and—

Just how many of them _are_ there?

He squirms a little, trying to get free again, and someone lets out an appreciative whistle. His attempts to move any more are stopped by someone smacking his ass.

“Y’know, ’s a damn _shame_ they changed the uniform. Would love to see this ass more often.”

“Yeah. I mean, talk about a bubble butt. Almost as good as Nightwing’s. The fuckin’ panties would look damn _fine_ on this kid.”

A hand slides between his legs, forcing them apart at their apex, and he can’t quite pick up what’s said next, only something about his “cute little cock.”

Tim’s face warms in humiliation.

He’s never been in such a vulnerable position before—not for anyone, _ever_.

Tim’s not one of those people who devotes a lot of free time to thinking about what their first time is going to be like, but in all his wildest thoughts, he’d never assumed it would be _anything_ like _this_.

“Stop it!” He shouts, hoping desperately that at least one of them has some semblance of compassion deep within them that he can draw out.

No such luck.

“Aw, the li’l brat wants us to _stop_. It’d be real rude to leave ya hangin’ here though, wouldn’t it? Sure seems like an invitation to me, and my mama always taught me that ya aren’t supposed to turn those down, ya hear?”

“Free use, too. Great rate for a cunt like that,” yet another person hums, and Tim can feel the tips of his ears _burning_.

Is he really going to lose hisvirginity to these horrible people?

He can’t even—

That’s _right_.

This is probably going to be the stupidest thing he’s done _all night_ , which considering all that’s happened, is really saying something, but he’s _desperate_ , here.

Something thick and blunt presses lightly against his opening.

A pause.

“Anyone got any lube?”

“Omega bitches don’t need lube. Just give ‘im a spit and he’ll be ready to go.”

That’s _disgusting_. Who would—

The guy behind him, apparently, because he just makes a noise of agreement, and then his hips are being angled up and after a truly gross sound, something warm and a little slimy is on his pussy lips, fingers following soon after, pushing it inside and rubbing it in.

If he doesn’t pull this card _now_ , he’s never going to get a chance, and they won’t stop, won’t stop at all—

But hopefully they’re decent enough that this will make them _listen_ and just _go away_.

Hell, he’d even settle for them fucking his thighs, just so long as they leave the rest of him _alone_.

“No! Don’t!”

Someone snorts, and then—

“I’m a virgin!”

Dead silence.

Something light starts lifting in his chest. He can’t believe—

That actually _worked_ —

Tim doesn’t think he’s ever been so grateful for anything in his _life_.

“Fuck,” the guy behind him breathes out harshly.

Just when the hope Tim allows himself starts to reach a crescendo, though—

“Can’t believe I get to break this bitch in. Gonna be his first knot ‘n everything. Shit, his hole’s gonna be the _tightest_. Ya gettin’ this?”

 _Knot_ _?_ They’re planning on _knotting_ him?

Did they not _hear_ him?

He’s a _virgin_. He can’t take a fucking _knot_.

And—

He’s not on any sort of birth control. He hadn’t thought he’d need to be any time soon.

If they cum in him—

He could get _pregnant_.

Hell, forget the knot and the cum, he has _no idea_ who these _freaks_ even _are_.

The chances of him getting an STD from this encounter are— _high_.

It is suddenly _very very hard_ to breathe normally.

“Every bit.”

“ _God_. Prepare to get your world _rocked_ , doll. You’re gonna be takin’ us like a champ by the end of the night. Probably gonna be throwin’ yourself at any cock ya can _get_. Whore. _Fuck_.”

That pressure’s back at his entrance, more insistent this time, and where there was once hope there is now more panic.

The thing at his cunt starts to move forward, and there’s a rise of catcalls from the other men.

That was supposed to make them _stop_.

Instead it only—encouraged them.

Then the cock pulls away, and thrusts in, bottoming our in one strike.

The man moans, and Tim cries out in sheer agony at the pain radiating from his core.

There is no moment of adjustment, no lead-up.

The man thrusts in and then just keeps hammering away, completely merciless and uncaring about the pain his victim is feeling.

“Just suckin’ me in, aren’tcha, doll? Perfect fuckin’ cocksleeve. Ya look so good split open on a nice, thick dick. Never thought I’d see a tight little ass like this one impaled on my cock.”

All throughout the man’s words, Tim hasn’t stopped yelping.

The pain is—subsiding, a bit, but it still hurts _so much_.

The worst part is that he can _feel_ his body reacting despite the pain.

“Holy shit, I think he’s actually gettin’ _wet_.”

“He hard, too?”

A hand roughly grips his cock where it’s laying at half-mast, then strokes gracelessly until he’s fully erect.

“Is now,” the man says with a mean chuckle.

“Guess ‘e just needed a proper alpha to come ‘n put ‘im in ‘is place, huh?” One of them jeers.

“What a sweet little fuckhole,” another croons.

“Shut up! Get out! _Stop_! It _hurts_!”

The man fucking him groans again at Tim’s yells, but it seems to be more in irritation this time than pleasure.

“Someone go find his front end and shut this bitch up.”

“Mmm. Think I’m gonna use his mouth. You seen how pretty that thing is? Just _made_ to suck cocks.”

“Gonna knot ‘im up there?”

“Dunno,” someone smacks his ass. “Depends on how good he is.”

“Think I’ll come with ya. Wanna mark ‘im up a bit. Bet he looks just fuckin’ _gorgeous_ with cum all over that pretty li’l face of his.”

_Nononononononono—_

He’s still in denial and panicking even more when the door finally opens and the men spot him, crossing the room quickly with ugly leers on their faces.

They near, and Tim’s stomach drops.

_Ya gettin’ this?_

That comment makes—a horrible amount of sense now.

One of the men has his phone out.

He’s—he’s recording this.

They’re raping him, and he’s _filming_ it.

They must see the horror on his face, because the man with the phone grins and says, “Smile, baby, you’re on camera.”

The other guy makes a brief effort at tugging his mask off, but is quickly warded off by the shocks.

“Whatever,” he snorts. “We’ll leave it on. ‘S hotter with the mask anyway.”

The man taking him has yet to slow in his thrusts, and it’s starting to wring harsh pants out of Tim that he’s trying dearly to hold in.

If he doesn’t, he’s worried about what other sounds might start coming out, because the pain’s almost gone now, and against everything his mind is screaming, it’s almost starting to feel just a little bit _good_.

The man with the phone unzips his pants and pulls out his cock.

“Ready for a treat, babe?”

“ _Go to hell_ ,” Tim snarls, and the man’s eyebrows fly up.

“Well that’s not very nice, now is it?”

“He givin’ ya trouble up there?” Whoever’s fucking into him asks casually through the wall.

“Sure is. Think you could give him a little _incentive_?”

The words are barely out of the man’s mouth before a heavy blow lands on Tim’s ass, pushing him forward a little and making him yelp.

“Be a good little whore and apologize.”

Tim opens his mouth to tell them exactly where they can shove it, but before he can even start to respond, the man taking him is spanking him again, and again, and again.

The other man in front of him grabs onto his hair, pulling tightly even as his friend rains down blows on Tim’s already sore backside.

“Didja hear me, slut? I’m not hearin’ any apologies over there. Danny, ‘s he apologizin’?”

The man with the phone—Tim’s not going to call him _Danny_ , he refuses to give any of these monsters by _name_ —raises an eyebrow at Tim, as if he doesn’t have a crooked grin slashing across his face.

“He’s not. Think he needs it a little harder.”

The spanks start coming in harder and faster, and Tim’s not prepared when another hand reaches around and grabs his balls in a crushing grip.

It’s enough to make him give a strangled cry of pain and bring tears to his eyes, which does not go unnoticed by any means. Both of the men in front of him grin a little wider at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, willing to do anything for them to just _let go_.

“Whaddya think, Danny?” Whoever has the punishing grip on him asks, casual, like they’re talking about the weather or the latest Knights game.

Danny—fuck, he’s _not supposed to use their names_ , but it’s too much, all at once, anything that’ll make this easier to process, easier to keep track of, he’s already beginning to latch onto—clicks his tongue in consideration.

“I dunno, John. He didn’t even address me. Awful rude for an omega, don’tcha think?”

“You heard the man.”

“I’m—I’m sorry _Sir_ ,” Tim bites out.

Danny tuts.

“Better, but still not _there_ , you feel?”

The grip on his balls tightens, and Tim wheezes.

“Alpha! Al—alpha! _I’m sorry Alpha_!”

Danny takes his _sweet_ time thinking about that one, and Tim hates him more with every passing second.

“Nah,” he eventually decides. “Think you can call John that one right now.”

Tim _gapes_.

What the hell _else_ is he supposed to say?

“Come on, baby boy. It ain’t that hard. Thought you were supposed to be the _smart_ bird.”

 _Baby boy_.

Tim grits his teeth. He’s _not_ going to—

A hand lays down across his ass at the same time the other tightens again.

Apparently, he fucking is.

“Daddy,” he mumbles.

“What was that?”

“Ya hear somethin’, John?” The other man asks.

“I didn’t hear nothin’.”

Danny sighs, shaking his head.

“Maybe you need to speak up.”

Tim swallows his loathing, and through a scowl and bared teeth, grits out, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

The spanking stops and the grip loosens, but both hands still rest on their respective prizes, the one on his ass gripping him for more leverage.

“That’s more like it. Now why don’t you tell Johnny over there how good his cock feels, how much you want his knot.”

“You feel so good. I want your knot so badly.”

He is _not_ giving these assholes anymore than he _absolutely has to_.

“Come on, baby, you can do better than that.”

The loose fingers curl around the base of his cock a little—a reminder, and a warning.

“...Your cock feels so good, Johnny. So big. I love how much it fills me up inside. Want your knot so badly, _need_ it. Fill me up with your cum, please.”

“Please _what_?”

“...Please, Alpha.”

John groans, his thrusts picking up speed.

”Yeah, I’ll give ya whatcha want, ya little whore. Gonna paint yer tight little cunt white from the inside, fill ya up like an omega _should_ be, getcha stuck on my knot and bred up real good.”

Danny has a pleased look on his face.

“Now you’re gonna suck my cock. But first, I want you to tell me why I should let you. Go on, convince Daddy that you’re worthy of his cock.”

“You _can’t_ be _serious_ —”

Danny clicks his tongue again.

“That don’t sound very convincing, babe. Does John gotta teach you another lesson?”

Tim closes his eyes, jaw clenching.

“Please... _Daddy_. Let me suck your cock. I want it so bad, bet it tastes so good. Let me show you how much I want it.”

Danny laughs, barking out, “You’re a natural, kid!”, and then unceremoniously shoves his dick between Tim’s lips, forcing them open wide.

“And if you get any ideas ‘bout biting down... I wouldn’t,” Danny warns.

 _“Lotsa_ ways to fuck ya up, birdy,” the other man pitches in.

Tim heeds the threat issued, and hates himself a little more for it.

“Wonder if Daddy Bats has trained away that gag reflex yet,” the other man snickers, steadily jacking himself off to the scene.

“Let’s find out.”

Before Tim has a chance to think about exactly what that means, the cock in his mouth is thrusting in again—forward, forward, forward, getting into his throat.

He’s lodged so deep inside of him that Tim’s nose is pressing into Danny’s pubic hair, the stench of his body odor pervading his senses.

He chokes around the length, struggling to get away, but Danny stays put, only groaning at the muscles flexing around his cock.

“Guess not,” the other man says gleefully. “Maybe he likes ta hear ‘im choke.”

“Likes to _feel_ it, more like. God _damn_ , kid, if this is how your _mouth_ is, I can’t _wait_ for a run at your cunt.”

He holds him there by his grip on his hair for long enough that Tim’s worried he’s going to black out, before pulling back.

Tim has one short moment to suck in that precious, precious air before the cock is back in his mouth again, thrusting in and out far less deeply, and at a much more leisurely pace than the one in his cunt.

He risks a glance up, and immediately regrets it.

The phone is angled down, and, Tim is sure, perfectly capturing his face and the cock he’s swallowing down, the way his lips are stretched around the thick length, drawn tight, the drool on his face—every humiliating detail, all captured for these men to go back to again and again.

Soon enough, the man on the other side is cursing up a blue streak, and there’s a greater pressure at his entrance with every hard stroke.

“Gonna fuckin’ knot ya up,” the man groans, and Danny seems to take it as a signal to withdraw. A string of saliva still connects his cock to Tim’s mouth. “Give ya a few pups. Gonna make ya a mommy, bitch.”

The knot finally pops in, blowing wide, stretching Tim’s walls to their limits, and he can’t help the expression that comes over his face, the way his mouth drops open in what could be a gasp or a silent scream or a soundless moan at the feeling. (He really can’t tell anymore.)

That seems to be all that was needed for the men handling his front end, because they swear when the pleasure-pain crosses his face, the strokes they’re giving their cocks speeding up until they’re both ejaculating over his face, tugging at their own knots to imitate some orifice of his.

He flinches despite himself when the ropes of cum hit his face, some of the seed getting into his mouth.

Oh god.

It takes him a second to regain his bearings, but—

It’s _over_.

Even as he can feel the smooth slide of cum being pumped into him, even as it slides down his face, he’s able to recognize that it’s _over_.

The men in front of him tuck themselves away, apparently sated for now, and the one not recording starts to show himself out.

Danny picks up a stray piece of dirty cloth—the warehouse is littered with garbage—balls it up, and shoves it in Tim’s mouth.

“Thanks for being so good for Daddy,” Danny coos on his way out. “...Slut.”

The knot goes down much quicker than he’d expected.

Of course, he’s heard that there are ways for alphas to speed up the process, but for obvious reasons he’d never really experienced it before.

The man slips out of him, leaving him bare and leaning jizz, and just like that, it’s done.

And then something else presses against his swollen folds—something that feels terribly like the cock that had just been inside him, just sized a little differently.

He can’t help the squeak that slips out.

“Didja really think that was gonna be it? Nah. We’re gonna put a kid in that belly. All the guys are waitin’ for their turn. Yer gonna be here for awhile. Hope ya live up to expectation, slag.”

And just like that, his hole is being used again.

The man tugs his hips up a little, pulling him back into his cock as much as he can given the circumstances, and with the shift in the angle, his dick is suddenly sliding across some heavenly spot within Tim that he both _loves_ and _despises_ right now.

He whines with every brush of that spot, and the man seems to start making a concentrated effort to hit it every time, reveling in the little noises that are being fucked out of Tim.

At long last the persistent, terrible heat pooling at the bottom of his stomach peaks, and he cums with a scream.

The man grunts as Tim’s walls tighten around him.

“That’s it. Milk my cock, ya fuckin’ knot whore.”

He keeps going, fucking him through it, and then continues even as Tim comes down from his high, squirming and whining more at the overstimulation, not caring one whit for the discomfort he’s causing.

It doesn’t end.

When this one knots him and then pulls out, he asks, “Who wants to mount this bitch next?” And someone immediately takes him up on the offer.

They go again and again and _again_.

Tim’s not sure how many men there are, because he’s lost count.

He’s sure at least a few of them take more than one turn, recognizing voices every once in a while as they come and go.

They all knot him, though, all cum inside of him.

Eventually, they start trying out his ass, too, using cum that’s leaked out of his cunt as lube, and they cum in that, too, though to his relief, none of them are quite able to fit their knot in. Many of them seem to prefer his cunt for that reason.

They mock him and make even more derogatory comments every time he orgasms, and they don’t touch him anymore, letting him cum from their cocks alone.

They pump him full of so much seed that he thinks he can feel his stomach bloating from it all; can certainly feel it running down his thighs.

It’s a torturous hell and the worst part is that he’s actually finding some unwilling _pleasure_ in it all.

The man taking him pulls out, and this time, no one steps up to take his place.

Tim almost sobs in relief.

Yet again, he ends up getting ahead of himself, because then they’re talking again and—

“We should find a way to plug ‘im up ‘till the next guys come ‘round. Can’t have ‘im losin’ all that cum just ‘cause he doesn’t have a knot in ‘im anymore. ‘Specially not if we want ‘im ta get pupped.”

“Think this’ll work?”

“Don’t see why not.”

Before he knows it, something cold, wide, smooth and unforgiving is being shoved into his cunt, pressing against his sensitive walls and keeping all their disgusting seed inside of him. It’s cylindrical, but tapers quite a bit at the end, and his hole instinctively clenches around it tightly to keep it all in like it would a knot.

“See? Little slut loves it.”

“Fitting, too, huh? Seein’ how drunk on our cocks he is.”

The dumb joke sends up a round of raucous laughter, and Tim can feel his face warming drastically as the pieces finally click into place.

A beer bottle. They’d taken some random beer bottle from the alley ground and used it as a plug.

He’s unfortunately present enough to register just how much more that probably ups the chances of him coming away from this encounter with yet another unpleasant surprise.

“Convenient, too,” he hears one of them say, just before he starts feeling a warmth in his pussy, quickly growing to be vaguely uncomfortable. The others snicker.

“A whore, a breeder, and an ashtray. What more d’ya need?”

...Oh. They’re snuffing out their cigarettes and putting them through the opening of the bottle they’d forced inside him.

Tim can feel his face burning even hotter than before, a fresh wave of tears pressing at his eyes that he holds back, and can only be grateful that they aren’t able to see his reaction to all this.

He can only imagine how he probably looks right now: bottom half sticking out of a wall, cum leaking out of his abused asshole and painting the insides of his thighs, trails of smoke literally blowing out of his cunt from the neck of a dirty old beer bottle.

And the worst part is the _phone_.

This has got to be the most horribly humiliating thing he’s ever been through, and _the entire world is going to see it_.

Oh, god.

Dick is going to see it.

 _Bruce_ is going to see it.

It’s inevitable. And sure, he wasn’t fooling himself into thinking they wouldn’t find out, but them _knowing_ about this is a whole different _world_ from them _seeing_ it and _watching it happen_.

And they’re going to watch the whole thing, too, he already knows—practically multiple times, because they’ll want to make run a trace on as many of the involved parties as they can, and make sure they don’t miss anything that could be evidence vital to finding and putting these creeps away for good.

Fuck.

They’re going to fire him in a heartbeat, aren’t they?

He was left alone for a single night and in that time he’d already managed to singlehandedly ruin Robin’s name. No one’s ever going to take him or any other Robin seriously again.

Dick is going to _hate_ him.

And even if by some miracle they let Tim keep working with them, just how ashamed would they be? Bruce probably wouldn’t be able to show his face at a Justice League meeting again without feeling utterly humiliated about his sidekick being such a phenomenal failure, even if all the members had enough tact and decency not to say anything.

He _certainly_ wouldn’t ever entertain the idea of bringing Robin to any more meetings—Tim’s embarrassed him enough that he can’t imagine the man would want to give him any more opportunities for it.

He’s just glad they gave up on his mask so quickly. Sure, he’s ruining their legacy and reputation, but at least he’s not endangering them and the people around them by risking the exposure of all their identities; at least he’s only bringing down one of their personas with him, and not them entirely.

He staunchly avoids the thought that if there are this many people willing to violate him in person—

...Well, there’s probably going to be a lot more who won’t feel any shame in getting off to watching the video, won’t there?

And seeing how there are this many people _in Gotham_ who are willing to do so—

He’s probably going to know a lot of those people who will.

It makes him wonder if he’s going to go to school when this is all over and have to walk through the halls and hear his classmates whispering and laughing about everything that happened tonight; makes him wonder if he’ll have to hear the other boys talk about it in the locker room—about how hot it was, how many times they got off to it, how they wish they’d gotten a turn.

The very idea makes him sick to his stomach.

They’d never know that the boy they were jacking off to being raped was walking among them—maybe wouldn’t even care if they did, would probably be even more gross about it if they knew than he’s sure they’re already going to be.

A large palm smacks down on his ass, resting on his cheeks. He can feel the beer bottle jostling inside him, but it stays put, along with all the ejaculate it’s holding in and the cigarette butts inside of it.

“Yer a good fuck, kid,” then, to the rest, he says, “I’ll have to pay this one another visit sometime. Hopefully Bats doesn’t try ta get ‘im out of here too soon.”

“Nah, I heard he’s with the League. They’re in space or somethin’. I’d wager we got at least another week with the kid ‘afore he turns up.”

“Think he’ll want a go, too? Take a round between his legs first before lettin’ him out?”

Someone snorts.

“Please. Who _wouldn’t_ wanna take ‘im for a ride? ‘M sure Batsy’ll only be upset that he wasn’t the one ta break ‘im in. Probably had ‘im on his knees before, but was savin’ his cunt and ass for a special occasion.”

“Tell me about it. We’ll have ta spread the word about the free entertainment down here.”

“Don’ worry, ‘m already postin’ the video. This thing’s gonna go _viral_.”

“With _your_ shitty phone? Don’t think so.”

“Who’s gonna care ‘bout the _quality_ when they get to watch an omega like _this_ get bred up? No one’s gonna miss seein’ _Robin_ gettin’ turned into a cumdump.”

“ _Honestly_. God, wish I could see the bats ‘n the League when they hear ‘bout this. Pro’ly gonna use this to jack off every night. Bet half of them have been waitin’ to bend this bitch over as long as he’s been ‘round.”

That’s—Tim hadn’t even _thought_ of that. That they’d be furious, embarrassed, would never want to see his face again? Sure. But that any of them would want to—

No.

No, they wouldn’t _do_ that, _none_ of them would. They’re too _good_. They’re _heroes_. They’ve been given that title for a reason.

He shouldn’t be listening to a single thing these thugs have to say, anyway.

(And if the thought brings about a fresh round of tears, anyway... well, nobody’s around to bear witness to them.)

“Betcha anything they’ll start passin’ ‘im around at meetings, now that they know the little whore’s all broken in an’ ready ta be used.”

“Hope he’s ready to be the League’s fucktoy. Once he’s done bein’ ours, of course.”

The hand still palming him starts to roughly knead his asscheek.

“Oh, _baby_ ,” the man behind him purrs, “Yer gonna be the talk of the _town_.”

“Damn right ‘e is.”

“Dunno about yous but I’m ready for another round,” someone says.

“‘M gonna go find Jackson, see if he wants a turn.”

“Get Diggsy and Mike while you’re at it. They’ll be _pissed_ if they miss out.”

Tim can hear them shuffling around, and some part of him thinks with dread that maybe they’re lining up for their next turn.

“Oh yeah,” he breathes. The kneading stops, the man instead gripping the globe of flesh tightly. “Gonna be _real_ popular, sweets.”

Tim whimpers.

The men laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the accents are overdone or inconsistent. I tried not to make them too obnoxious, and mix it up a little because people just talk differently, but keep some common elements and keep the same group of words accented for specific characters when they talked more than once, so they were at least a little more distinct. Hopefully it turned out alright?


End file.
